


We Could Stay Here Forever And Never Get It Together

by MiserableLie95



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiserableLie95/pseuds/MiserableLie95
Summary: Smiths Era, on tour in America. In my mind Morrissey & JM are always drinking and being poetic about fucking.





	We Could Stay Here Forever And Never Get It Together

“How long are we going to keep living like this?” Johnny asked.

They were drunk on American gin and dizzy with love on the terrace of their hotel room in Texas, looking at each other in the dying minutes of the evening. Morrissey drained the rest of his glass and smiled at Johnny from behind the rim.

“As long as it lasts,” he said after a moment.

“And just how long do you think that will be?” Johnny smiled.

“I wish I knew.”

Morrissey ran his hand through the hair on the back of Johnny’s head. The guitarist was wearing his cardigan, and leaned into his comforting touch. “I don’t want anything to end,” Johnny mumbled. He looked back out at the setting sun, his jaw jutting out as he tried not to say anything else.

"I don’t either,” Morrissey sighed. “Maybe it won’t.”

Morrissey looked at Johnny’s profile for a moment before turning his face so he could kiss him. When he broke the kiss Johnny’s expression had brightened considerably, and he slipped his hand into Morrissey’s. “You have to hold onto things while you can,” Morrissey told him. He had taken on a more mature, stable tone as the years went on. He was in love for the first time, and it was painful. Such was life. His voice sounded very far away to Johnny, but he reckoned it might’ve been the gin.

“I'm trying, love,” Johnny said. He felt Morrissey tighten his arm around his shoulders and he moved closer to his singer, slipping his arms around his waist. Johnny brushed his lips along Morrissey’s jawline, breathing in deeply. He could feel goosebumps on the other man’s skin.

“You’re cold,” Johnny mumbled. “I should give you back your sweater.”

“Keep it. It looks good on you,” Morrissey said in a strained voice.

He couldn’t explain the feeling he got from seeing Johnny in his clothes. Even the most commonplace things between two people seemed incredibly intimate when it was with Johnny. Johnny smiled and kissed him on the lips, tasting the gin they had been drinking. He moved his hands along Morrissey’s back and kissed his cheeks and his jaw and his neck, light and loving, making Morrissey’s face burn with blush from the quiet dedication.

“Need more,” Johnny said in a low voice.

“Gin?” Morrissey asked. His throat was thick, caught in the moment. Johnny laughed, and Morrissey could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Gin and you, certainly,” Johnny replied. One of his hands had slipped down the singer’s torso to his inner thigh.

“I agree,” Morrissey smiled.

Johnny’s eyes flashed, pleased with being granted permission, like it mattered anymore. He kissed Morrissey hard, pulling at the singer’s shirt to lead him back into their hotel room. Bottles of gin and wine, an overflowing ashtray, and discarded teacups covered the surface of the one table in the room- but Morrissey pressed Johnny up against it anyway, spreading his fingers along the material of his own cardigan as they kissed. Johnny was impatient; pulling at Morrissey’s hips to keep their bodies close, his breathing erratic against Morrissey’s mouth, undoing his belt and the button of his jeans.

"And how long is this going to last?” Johnny asked. He pressed the palm of his hand against Morrissey’s hardening cock over his jeans. Morrissey moaned into Johnny’s mouth, bucking his hips for more contact. There never could be enough between them.

“How long am I going to last?” Morrissey repeated slowly. He looked down at Johnny’s hand slipping inside his jeans and breathed out raggedly. “Never as long as I hope for,” he murmured.

“There’s always more time, darling,” Johnny told him.

It wasn’t true- there was less and less now, but they could pretend for another night. Johnny led Morrissey over to the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt, his hands moving over his smooth chest, his lips following across his collarbone. Morrissey could feel the heat of Johnny’s body, the hardness of his cock against his thigh as Johnny craned his neck to kiss him. He pulled Johnny closer, slipping his hand into the younger man’s jeans to squeeze his arse. Johnny groaned deep in his throat and pushed his hips against Morrissey’s. Morrissey slipped out of his shirt and let it fall to the ground, and Johnny fell to his knees. He took off his shirt and undid Morrissey’s jeans completely then helped him out of them, moving his hands up the singer’s thighs lovingly.

“So fucking gorgeous, Moz… You don’t know what you do to me, baby,” Johnny said in a low voice, looking up to meet his eyes. He marveled over the singer’s smooth pale skin, running his fingers through the dark curls trailing down beneath his navel, leading to his hard cock, pointing up towards his navel, throbbing with his racing heartbeat.

“I might know a similar sensation,” Morrissey said breathlessly.

 Morrissey closed his eyes as Johnny’s lips moved along his cock, sighing softly as he was overcome with warmth and the most beautiful sensation. He put his hands through Johnny’s hair, and moved his hips with Johnny’s mouth, moaning as Johnny took him all the way in. Johnny gave him head until Morrissey’s fingers tightened in his hair and his breathing reduced to sharp gasps, then he pushed his lover back against their hotel bed, letting Morrissey watch him take off his clothes. Johnny rubbed one of his hands across his chest and watched Morrissey’s eyes follow him around the room as he got what he needed, waiting for the moment when their bodies would come together again. Johnny joined him on the bed, straddling his partner. Morrissey sat up and moved to run his hand along Johnny’s thighs. He looked up at Johnny longingly and Johnny grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him until they were both breathless and Morrissey couldn’t manage to keep up with the frantic press of Johnny’s body against his own and his hand stilled at the base of Johnny’s cock- so they broke apart, looking at each other in a daze.

Johnny nodded to the inevitable question that Morrissey’s lustful gaze was asking and kissed him again, biting at his bottom lip before he pushed him back down against the mattress again and turned him over onto his stomach. He pulled Morrissey’s hips up and thrusted against his arse a few times, letting him feel his hardness against him. Morrissey swore and arched his back against Johnny’s grip on him, which loosened for a moment and then replaced the feeling of rough hands on his hips with the sensation of the guitarists’ swollen cock pressing against his arse as the younger man reached over for the lube on the nightstand. Johnny was quiet as he applied the lube and fingered his partner a little to ensure his readiness, spurred on by the singer’s impatient groan. He took a breath to steady himself and then thrusted inside him slowly, hearing Morrissey moan contentedly underneath him, shifting the pillows under his head. Johnny gave him another moment, his hands pressing flat against the singer’s smooth back and flexed his hips, feeling Morrissey’s body accommodate his length, making him tremble for friction.

Morrissey moaned against the pillow that he was hiding his face in as Johnny moved, and a moment later Johnny was thrusting rhythmically against him, gasping, “Oh, yeah,” under his breath. After a few thrusts Johnny shifted his weight and sat up, pulling Morrissey up with him so his partner was on all fours. Johnny pulled out and thrusted in again with a gasp, which Morrissey copied a moment later as the guitarist held onto his hips tightly and pounded into him.

“Yeah, more,” Morrissey moaned.

He pushed back against Johnny, letting his cock slide deeper, and Johnny picked up his pace eagerly. Johnny loved hearing the way Morrissey’s breathing fluctuated and his moans soared, pushing back against him in his eagerness to be fucked. When he had to stop himself from getting close Johnny pulled out again and turned his singer over, revealing the flushed cheeks and bright eyes of his partner, his cock hard and slick with precum, pointing up towards his navel. Johnny couldn’t help but grin stupidly again, still in awe of what they could do to each other. He leaned in to kiss him on the lips and Morrissey pulled him against him, laughing as Johnny all but collapsed on top of him.

“Mmm,” Johnny sighed. He took a moment to try and catch his breath. “How’s my baby?” he asked. He traced Morrissey’s collarbone with his lips and his tongue, sinking his teeth into the singer’s flushed skin to leave a love bite behind. Morrissey moaned, shifting underneath Johnny so that his cock rubbed against him in the movement.

“I’m in love, drunk on gin, and I’m in Texas,” Morrissey replied.

“I think I’m a little too much in love right now,” Johnny told him.

“That’d be the gin,” Morrissey laughed.

“No,” Johnny smiled. “It’s you. I’d let you kill me. I wouldn’t think twice.”

“I’ll wait until after I’ve finished to attempt your murder,” Morrissey said evenly.

They kissed again, and Johnny groaned, flexing his hips against Morrissey’s. He kissed Morrissey hard, until the laughter turned into hips moving together trying to find friction, and the guitarist reached for the lube again. Johnny gripped Morrissey by the waist, kneeling behind him as Morrissey leaned forward with one hand flat against the mattress. Johnny raised himself up a little bit and pushed himself in, starting a series of slow and rhythmic thrusts. Morrissey moaned readily, his head dropping down with soft moans as Johnny fucked him. He would’ve liked more but Johnny was steady in his deep thrusts, gripping the inside of Morrissey’s thighs from behind as he went as far as he could go.

The hotel bed creaked underneath them and Johnny moaned, his grip on Morrissey’s thighs tightening. “Oh,” Johnny gasped. “Mozzer.” Morrissey moaned again and let his upper body press against the mattress, his face buried in his arms. Johnny’s breath caught for a moment as the heat in his stomach intensified, and he started fucking Morrissey more quickly, rewarding him for giving in to pleasure. Morrissey moaned, moving his hand along his cock hurriedly. He could feel the pressure building up, and Johnny’s near-constant stream of moans helped speed up the process.

“That feels so good,” Morrissey said, his voice was low with arousal and his breathing had become ragged in pleasure.

Johnny was panting when he pulled out again, and moments from climax. He stopped and took a breath, admiring sharp planes of Morrissey’s shoulder blades and the lean muscles showing in his shoulders and his back, becoming tanned from the summer sun and slick with sweat. Johnny kissed his upper back and sighed, giving himself a moment before putting his hands on Morrissey’s waist to thrust back inside of him. He moved his hands along Morrissey's upper back, pressing him down against the mattress as he started going again, fucking him hard and fast. He has to stop himself again all too soon, too close again.

He pulled out again and changed position, turning Morrissey onto his back and settling himself between his legs. Johnny smoothed back the singer’s hair and kissed him on the lips, muffling a moan against his partner’s lips. He looked into Morrissey’s eyes as he entered him again. Morrissey sighed and rubbed his hands along Johnny’s back, settling his arms around Johnny’s neck to keep him close as they both neared their peak. Johnny kissed him slowly while he fucked him, weary with the burden of love.

He could hear Morrissey gasp and sigh underneath him when he reached his climax, and Morrissey had held him tightly while Johnny thrusted through his orgasm, his head buried against Morrissey’s shoulder, crying out breathlessly as he came. Morrissey reached to touch himself, listening to Johnny’s final gasps of the evening. Johnny continued to thrust against him slowly as his orgasm subsided, breathing heavily against his lover’s shoulder, his body shuddering. Morrissey was breathless and buzzing for more stimulation, and soon Johnny was leaning over him again, kissing his chest, his mouth moving over his nipples and down his chest while Morrissey worked towards his own climax. Johnny looked up at the singer and watched his expression as he neared orgasm, his perfect cupid bow lips parted as he gasped.

Johnny followed the singer’s gaze down his body, to where he had one had cupping his balls and the other jerking himself off steadily. Johnny felt as though he was in a daze as he watched the movements of his lover’s hand, and a low groan alerted him to Morrissey’s closeness. He focused his eyes on his partner and took a breath as Morrissey reached his own peak, his head turning into the pillows to muffle the noises he was making as Johnny kissed his neck and his chest.      

Johnny sat up and pulled a pillowcase off of one of the many pillows that they had thrown onto the floor in their eagerness to be together and mopped up the mess they’d made. It was late, and weariness took over. Morrissey kissed him then rolled over onto the other side of the bed and stretched out. Johnny pulled the sheet up off the floor and draped it over his partner. Morrissey was still naked, there was a bottle of gin with a quarter left in it on the bedside table a few feet to his right. Johnny kissed him goodnight, and reached for the bottle. He stood alone out on the balcony while his lover slept.


End file.
